


One Choice

by WheelsUpIn_Five



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, but you could totally ignore that, clint isn't SHIELD yet, they arent together in this but its written to be phlint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WheelsUpIn_Five/pseuds/WheelsUpIn_Five
Summary: Two and a half years he’d spent on the tail of one Clinton Francis Barton. Two and a half years of sleepless nights as he tried to track him, only to miss him by minutes when the time arrived. Two and a half years of being told he was wasting his time... But tonight would be different. Tonight he would catch him.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	One Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I've had this one sitting around in my WIPs for a little while now so I thought I might finish it up for you :)

Rain poured down around him, hitting his back like bullets, obscuring his vision. Phil Coulson was known to be able to withstand any conditions in order to complete a mission, but he was starting to have trouble controlling his shivering. It had been an hour and a half, and he was more than ready to go home. Instead, he had to stay hidden in the corner of an old alleyway that smelled like piss, in the relentless wind and rain, waiting for his mark to make an appearance. It was far from ideal.

Two and a half years he’d spent on the tail of one Clinton Francis Barton. Two and a half years of sleepless nights as he tried to track him, only to miss him by minutes when the time arrived. Two and a half years of being told he was wasting his time... But tonight would be different. Tonight he would catch him. 

His comms crackled in his ear, interference turning it all to static—not that is mattered, he knew what they would be saying. 

_ Remember, Coulson, this is kill on sight. Don’t fuck this up. _

Despite being the one running this op, he still had people above him, changing his plan to their liking so they could get the credit for it if they were successful, but let him take the fall when it wasn’t. He’d agreed when they briefed him, but it was all just empty words. He’d do what he needed to when push comes to shove. 

Someone landed quietly on the fire escape in front of him, the dark figure sitting crouched for a moment, unmoving, silent. Phil drew his gun. 

His heart beat hard in his chest. He’d never been this close before. 

They jumped down, landing near silently on the wet ground, he was about to take off when Phil stepped from the shadows.

“Don’t move,” he said, cocking his gun, keeping it trained on the man in front of him, “Put your hands where I can see them.”

They stopped dead in their tracks, hesitantly raising their hands. 

“Drop your weapon, and  _ slowly _ turn to face me.”

Clint turned slowly, a smug smile playing at his lips, but fear heavy in his eyes. He took the bow from his shoulder and placed it gently on the ground in front of him and put his hands up. Phil gripped his gun more tightly.

He’d been ordered to kill on site before, and had followed through without hesitation, but this was different. Clint had so much potential which no one else seemed to see. He was more than just an ex-carnie, more than an assassin. He was smart enough to do it in one shot and leave without as much as a footprint left behind. Phil would never admit it aloud, but he respected him. 

For years he had only seen him through blurred CCTV footage and old black and white photos, and now here he was in person. Piercing blue eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and a bruise staining his right cheek, Phil didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“On your knees,” Phil said, closing the gap between them, “And don’t even think of trying anything.”

Clint didn’t move, his eyes scanning over his body, searching for other weapons, weighing up his chances.

“Now.”

Neither of them moved. Chances being calculated, decisions being made, all within a fraction of a second. Clint reached back, his fingers brushing against the fletching of his arrows. A loud bang broke the silence, and he went down. Phil lowered his gun, his expression unchanging.

“Congratulations, Agent, you got me,” Clint panted, clutching his leg, his voice rough, “Are you going to kill me now, or play with me first?”

Phil picked up Clint’s bow and slung it over his shoulder before jerkily dragging him to his feet and cuffing his hands behind his back. 

“I’ll keep this safe,” he said, “and you can get it back if you behave.”

Clint gasped at the movement. “You really do fight dirty don’t you? Keeping my bow hostage.” Phil could see the scared man behind his witty remark and careless attitude.

“Move.” He pressed the muzzle of the gun to the small of his back, pushing him forwards.

“Yes sir,” Clint said, his tone dripping in sarcasm, limping heavily forwards, relying more on the man behind him to hold him up than his leg itself. Phil didn’t fail to notice the hearing aids tucked neatly behind each ear, or the dark circles that lay under his eyes.

What should have been a quick ten minute walk back to the van took twice as long, and if they both weren’t shivering before, they definitely were now. Drenched and at serious risk of hypothermia, they had made it back, largely in one piece. 

Clint bit back a sob with the next step, his knees threatening the buckle. The only reason they hadn’t was because Phil now took most of the weight from his right side. 

Sitwell jumped out of the van and was quick to draw his gun, but Phil was faster. 

“Don’t,” Phil said, staring him straight in the eyes, expressionless. 

“Are you threatening to shoot a superior officer?” Sitwell squeaked, his eyes darting between the gun and the men in front of him, his hand still hovering above his own. 

“Would you like to find out?” he asked plainly, gripping Clint more tightly. The tension in the air was heavy and tight, like a rubber band wound back, ready to snap.

Sitwell swallowed thickly and shook his head, but waited a beat before hesitantly getting back into the vehicle.

Phil helped Clint into the back, climbing in after him, careful not to hit the bow on the roof. It was much warmer inside but he still handed Clint an emergency blanket before bandaging his leg with numb fingers. The silence was thick, but no one dared to make a sound. Phil knew he’d have some explaining to do, but God be damned if they didn’t give him a chance. 

“When we get to HQ, I will propose you work for us. For S.H.I.E.L.D.” His voice filled the space between them, but did nothing to relieve the tension. 

“What makes you think I will agree?” Clint asked, still breathing hard, clenching his fists in an attempt to stop the shaking. 

“Because you’re tired of running.”

Clint didn’t say anything, his eyes flicking to his feet. Phil knew he was smart, no one could keep out of their sights for so long without being so. He only had to hope he was smart enough to see it was the best option. He’d spent too many hours tracking him to let him rot in a cell for the rest of his life. 

“Because I won’t let you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated 
> 
> Tumblr: wheelsupin-five


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